Broken and Mended
by pepperlandgirl
Summary: The First does its best to break Spike--and almost succeeds


Title: Broken and Mended  
  
Summary: The First does its best to work over Spike.  
  
Set after Bring on The Night.  
  
Rated: PG-13  
  
It won. Evil always does. Spike was broken. Utterly, completely, broken. There was nothing left to draw on, no hope, no love, no memories of his Slayer. Her face had been marred and distorted by images of the First, and he had been down there so long that they have replaced his real memories.  
  
Wave after wave of despair overtook him until he was completely numb. He noticed, distantly, that there was a puddle of blood beneath him. His feet was slick with his own blood, and Jesus Christ, was there any blood left in him? Where the fuck was all this blood coming from?  
  
It didn't matter anyway. With the help of the First, he finally understood that. Angelus humiliating him at every turn, Dru using and leaving him, the chip, Buffy leaving him in the ally, the bathroom, the soul, never made him understand. The guilt, the personal hell he lived in for months, none of it forced him to let go of this stupid, pathetic belief that he had some worth. But he knew different now.  
  
Angelus was right. Buffy was right. He always had some reason to disregard what they said. Namely that they were both fucking psychos. He could admit that even when he loved them. Neither were poster children for mental health, and so everything they saw was filtered through a warped mirror of self-hatred and it reflected back on him. But even if they were psycho, they weren't wrong.  
  
The First and its pet--what the fuck was that thing?--left him alone now. Being omnipotent, It knew when its job was finished, and now it just left there on the wall in the dark, dank cave to bleed and cry. All he wanted to do was die. He knew he'd be sent to a different hell to be tortured for eternity, but it would be away from Buffy.  
  
She never came for him. And even as he understood why she wouldn't, the disappointment was nearly heavy enough to bring him to his knees, despite the rope binding him to the wall. He couldn't think of a single reason why she would, except for that damned hope that refused to die. It was a splinter that was wedged into his heart, and no matter how he tried, he never could get rid of it. Until now.  
  
The truth was will set you free, and Spike was at least relieved to be unburdened by that great and terrible hope. She said she believed in him, and who knows? Maybe she had in her own little way. But she probably forgot about him once he was out of the house, and who could blame her? He certainly didn't. Not anymore.  
  
Pitiful tears dropped off his pallid and wane cheeks and mingled with the growing puddle of blood on the floor. He didn't notice. Spike didn't even realize that even as he thought he came to terms with his abandonment, the tears continued to fall. It was though a secret piece of him refused to die. It was huddled, tired, beaten, scared deep in his subconscious but it still had, and always would, an undying belief in the Slayer. She would come because that's what hero types did. They rescued people. But whatever huddled in the murky depths of Spike mind remained silent, undetected by Spike himself and by the First.  
  
He had asked Buffy if he could rest, and she didn't answer. She must have known the truth long before he ever did. Worthless, evil, vampires don't get to rest. They get tormented, tortured, beaten, and degraded because that's what they deserved. Worthless, evil vampires didn't deserve to rest, to get a moment's worth of peace. It was ok though, because he understood that too.  
  
The sheer number of epiphanies he had in this dark cave and the clarity they brought with them was almost worth it. If he got out of this alive, which was highly unlikely anyway, these were lessons he wouldn't forget. He always had a good mind for facts, was always appreciative of education, and he wouldn't likely disregard an education that came at such a high price.  
  
Worthless. Stupid. Evil. Check.  
  
And the tears continued to mingle with the blood.  
  
He wasn't a praying man. God had no use for his kind, and had turned His back on Spike a long time before he was ever vamped, but he was tempted to pray for his death. But no, God handed out punishment to the sinners. God punished everybody who sinned, right? He was probably pleased, and who was Spike to question it?  
  
Who was Spike to do anything?  
  
Spike wasn't anything but a worthless, broken vampire.  
  
Mended  
  
When she saw him, she was so grateful she lost the strength in her legs and nearly fell to her knees. She finally found him. As the days dragged by, she lost hope that she would ever see him again, but she couldn't give up on him. He wouldn't give up on her.  
  
Her relief was shortlived though, when she saw the condition he was in. She didn't know if vampires could bleed to death, but if they could, Spike would be nearly there. He was looking directly at her, but his eyes didn't flicker with recognition. His eyes didn't flicker with anything. They looked dead.  
  
She didn't speak. There wasn't time. She immediately set to work on freeing Spike from the ropes and she touched him more than necessary to reassure herself that he was really there. He didn't react at all, and this disappointed and frightened her. He acted as though she wasn't there, as though he couldn't feel her or see her. Spike, look at me she silently pleaded, but his eyes remained on the stone wall behind her.  
  
She forced the fear down as it began to bubble up and quickly freed him. He would have fallen to the ground in a lifeless lump if she hadn't caught him. He had lost a lot of weight, and was only a bag of bones, but he was dead weight. Buffy half carried, half dragged him out of the dark cavern, keeping a silent litany of please, Spike, please Spike, please Spike. She didn't know exactly what she was begging for though. Please be OK. Please forgive me for taking so long. Please show a sign of life.  
  
The next hour passed in a blur. She was working on auto-pilot, efficient and businesslike. The longer she spent with the silent shell of Spike, the more it broke her heart. He was so injured, so lost. She forced blood down his throat, as much as they had in the house, and put him in her bed. While she worked, she talked to him. She told him all about the girls living in the house, about the Ubervamp, about the Bringers and the First. She was afraid to let him fall into silence, but she didn't even know if he could hear her.  
  
It wasn't until he was safely tucked into bed, warm, bandaged and full of blood that she locked herself in the bathroom and allowed herself to cry. It had been the most trying three weeks in memory, and she knew it wasn't over yet. Things were just going to get worse, and the one person who could help her was a corpse in her bedroom.  
  
The person she loved was lifeless in her bed.  
  
She pulled herself together and went in to check on him. His eyes were closed, so she assumed he was asleep. She sat down on a chair next to the bed and watched him. He never moved, but she didn't take her eyes from him. What was going on in his head? He may heal physically, but would he heal mentally? She couldn't even imagine what the First had done to him--didn't want to even think about it.  
  
Her eyes grew heavy as she watched him sleep, and soon she was asleep herself.  
  
~*~  
  
When Spike woke up, he didn't know where he was. When he finally recognized the room he was in as Buffy's, he decided he was probably hallucinating again and didn't give it second thought. He still ached all over, but he hadn't felt this good in a long time. The harsh edge of his hunger was relieved, he was no longer bleeding, and the imaginary bed felt almost real.  
  
Buffy would never take him back to her house. If she bothered to look for him, it would only be because she was afraid he'd team up with the First, and she would have to stake him. But it was the best hallucination he had since this whole mess started, so he held onto it as tightly as possible.  
  
He reached out and tentatively touched the sleeping form of Buffy, hunched over in the chair next to his bed. She was solid. Of course, it didn't mean anything other than this was really a dream and not the First tormenting him again. So that was something. Spike's face stretched in painful, albeit small, smile. His lips were swollen, his teeth still stained with blood. She looked beautiful, like a sleeping angel. His heart swelled and contracted at the sight of her. So this is what she looked like? It was virtually impossible to call her image up when he was awake, but apparently in his dreams he still remembered exactly what she looked like.  
  
She opened her eyes suddenly, but this was Spike's dream, so she didn't pull her hand away from him.  
  
"Hey," she said, softly.  
  
"Hi Buffy." In his dreams, he was never shy. He was able to speak to her and she would respond without anger and hatred. "How are you?"  
  
"I'm better now that you're awake."  
  
That's an odd thing to say, Spike thought. But he decided to play along.  
  
"How long was I asleep?" He realized that his words were slurred, it was hard to push them pass his swollen lips and parched throat. That was a first. Usually in his hallucinations, he was perfectly healthy. There's no point in having a dream world if you're going to be in pain and injured there too.  
  
"You've been out of it for awhile. I...Well, I was really worried."  
  
Spike smiled, he loved this part. But it was very bittersweet. Next she would tell them that she loved him, but before they could embrace, he would wake up, hanging by his wrists from the wall. He didn't want this to end.  
  
"No need to worry, pet. I'm fine."  
  
She shook her head, "You are not fine, Spike. I'm glad to see you're awake and speaking, but Spike I've never seen..."  
  
The tears again. Spike wondered if he was going to die soon. Maybe some higher being took a modicum of pity on his suffering and allowed him one last moment of happiness before his body turned to dust and he was sent to meet his destiny in hell. He never liked to see Buffy cry, but the indication that she cared for him warmed him even as the logical part of him rejected the notion completely.  
  
"Vampire healing. I'll be good as new in no time." He patted the bed next to him in a silent invitation for Buffy to join him. When after a few seconds, she stretched out next to him, careful to avoid jostling him and causing more pain, he wasn't surprised. He just needed to hold her one more time. That's all.  
  
He put his arm around her and ignored the pain that shot through his body with every movement. Didn't matter now anyway. She was so soft and warm, and he could even smell her unique combination of aromas and hear her heartbeat. He allowed his senses to be overwhelmed by her presence, savoring every second, afraid that any moment it could all be over.  
  
Untold eons passed, and Spike knew his time was running out. He needed to hear the words before he woke up. Needed to hear them one more time before he died. "I love you," he murmured against her hair. He waited patiently for her to return the sentiment, knowing that as soon as she did, the First would wake him up.  
  
"Oh, Spike," her voice caught, thick with tears. "I love you too."  
  
He smiled and closed his eyes, not expecting anything more. Buffy was though, and she was surprised she didn't get more of a reaction from Spike. Hadn't he been waiting for years for this? She knew he was ill and tired, but she wanted some sort of reaction from him.  
  
"Spike?"  
  
"Hmmmm?"  
  
"Aren't you going to say anything?"  
  
"About what?"  
  
"I just told you I love you."  
  
"Well, yeah. It's my fantasy, what else would you say?"  
  
She sat up. "Spike this isn't a dream."  
  
"Of course it is."  
  
She turned and looked at him, staring him in the eyes intently. "No, Spike it isn't."  
  
He laughed, though it hurt his broken ribs. "Right. Ok. This is all real. Because the Slayer would go out of her way to rescue me, put me in her bed, and tell me she loves me. Look, you win ok? You don't have to keep doing this. Let me wake up."  
  
Buffy was baffled. "Spike, I don't know what you think is going on, but I can assure you that I'm real, that I did rescue you, that you are in my bedroom and I do love you."  
  
Spike closed his eyes, "I can't believe I'm arguing with my bloody hallucinations."  
  
"Why don't you believe me?" Buffy demanded.  
  
"Because the Slayer would never love me," he explained in a reasonable voice.  
  
Buffy's mouth fell open. How on Earth could she convince him that this was real? Her heart broke as she really began to understand that there was no part of Spike left that believed he had a chance with her outside of the realm of fantasy.  
  
Buffy moved close to him and put his hand on her heart. "Can you feel that? Can you feel all of this? Spike if this was a dream, would you be all beat up?"  
  
"I don't know."  
  
She leaned forward and kissed his lips gently. He closed his eyes and kissed her back for a few moments then pulled away, confusion written plainly on his face. "This is real," she assured him quietly. "It's real Spike."  
  
"But how can you be...?" His voice cracked and he was unable to finish the sentence. He searched her face with his eyes, looking for any sign that she was lying, that the dream was falling apart, but he saw nothing but sincerity.  
  
She pulled him into a hug and stroked the back of his head. "Oh Spike, I'm so sorry. You shouldn't have to go through this. I'm sorry...."  
  
Then the tears started to fall, but this time they didn't mingle with blood. Instead they mingled with her tears.  
  
"You came for me," he choked out. "You really did." And he fell apart. His body shook with sobs of relief, and he began apologizing for doubting her. Buffy froze for a moment, uncertain of how to proceed, but she realized he just needed her to hold him and whisper quiet reassurances. She would stay with him like that all night, and all day tomorrow if he needed her.  
  
Because she loved him. 


End file.
